The first warehouse we break into is exactly what you'd expect in a town where all the industry has dried up. There's a layer of dust an inch thick covering everything, and a musty wet mildew stench that makes me wonder if Swamp Thing took a dump here. There are a couple of long-dead cars up on blocks, rusted solid, with anything remotely useful already removed. You wouldn't think anyone could stand to live here, even overnight, but the guy we're looking for is a homeless junkie, so who knows? We search the place.
Outside, I hear other people moving around, trying to be sneaky and failing miserably. Everyone in this dump of a town looks and acts like they're from one of those hillbillies-who-hate-outsiders movies. It's a pretty safe bet they didn't come out here to welcome us. I find a rusty section of tailpipe on the floor and pick it up. It's garbage, but it'll make a decent club for at least a swing or two. Penny comes back, moving quietly and carrying a hunk of lumber, so I know she's heard them too. We put our heads together for a whispered conference. I want to charge out the door, rush the hillbillies, and knock out their last few teeth. Penny talks me down. They could have half the town waiting out of earshot, ready to swarm in on us. They could also be the local cops, and we are, after all, breaking and entering. So we wait. Eventually the hillbillies go stomping and stumbling away from us until we can't hear them anymore. We wait a few more minutes, then go back outside. The smart move would be to get out of town, but we have a bum to find. Moving slowly, keeping an eye out for hillbillies, we move to the next warehouse.
This place is in even worse shape than the last one. It looks like the two of us could shove the whole building over. There are a couple of holes in the wall, and most of the roof has caved in. The lock on the door has rusted through. We hear the hillbillies again, rustling around at the next warehouse to the north. We go in quickly and start prowling around. From the inside, I can see the sky where a section of roof has collapsed completely. The floor is covered in rubble and random piles of unidentifiable trash, but at least all the holes have let most of the stink out. We pick our way carefully across the clutter and start looking for signs that a squatter has been here. We make it maybe twelve paces when there's the softest little creak and what feels like half the roof comes down on top of us.
I'm pinned to the ground for a second, and surrounded by the smell of moldy wood. I kick my way free of the rubble. My pipe is lost, buried somewhere in the latest pile. Penny is on the ground, scraped up and holding her head but alive. We got lucky. The piece of roof that fell on us must have been rotten right through, so badly that it crumbled as it fell, coming apart in mid-air. If it had stayed in one piece it probably would have crushed us flat. Both of us spend a few minutes gasping and coughing in the sudden cloud of dust.
I offer Penny a hand up. She slaps it away. I turn my back on her in disgust, and that's when I notice a boot sticking out of one of the older junk piles. I move in for a closer look. Sure enough, it's a body, dead but not stinking yet, dressed in tattered, mismatched clothes. This guy wasn't as lucky as us. A metal catwalk came down in one of the earlier cave-ins and sent him straight to Bum Heaven. At least it was probably quick. He's still wearing a St. Benedict's cross around his neck. I take it off him and whisper, “Rest in peace, Tater.”
I show my prize to Penny and we start picking our cautious way back to the door. We still have a train to catch.
Outside, I hear other people moving around, trying to be sneaky and failing miserably. Everyone in this dump of a town looks and acts like they're from one of those hillbillies-who-hate-outsiders movies. It's a pretty safe bet they didn't come out here to welcome us. I find a rusty section of tailpipe on the floor and pick it up. It's garbage, but it'll make a decent club for at least a swing or two. Penny comes back, moving quietly and carrying a hunk of lumber, so I know she's heard them too. We put our heads together for a whispered conference. I want to charge out the door, rush the hillbillies, and knock out their last few teeth. Penny talks me down. They could have half the town waiting out of earshot, ready to swarm in on us. They could also be the local cops, and we are, after all, breaking and entering. So we wait. Eventually the hillbillies go stomping and stumbling away from us until we can't hear them anymore. We wait a few more minutes, then go back outside. The smart move would be to get out of town, but we have a bum to find. Moving slowly, keeping an eye out for hillbillies, we move to the next warehouse.
This place is in even worse shape than the last one. It looks like the two of us could shove the whole building over. There are a couple of holes in the wall, and most of the roof has caved in. The lock on the door has rusted through. We hear the hillbillies again, rustling around at the next warehouse to the north. We go in quickly and start prowling around. From the inside, I can see the sky where a section of roof has collapsed completely. The floor is covered in rubble and random piles of unidentifiable trash, but at least all the holes have let most of the stink out. We pick our way carefully across the clutter and start looking for signs that a squatter has been here. We make it maybe twelve paces when there's the softest little creak and what feels like half the roof comes down on top of us.
I'm pinned to the ground for a second, and surrounded by the smell of moldy wood. I kick my way free of the rubble. My pipe is lost, buried somewhere in the latest pile. Penny is on the ground, scraped up and holding her head but alive. We got lucky. The piece of roof that fell on us must have been rotten right through, so badly that it crumbled as it fell, coming apart in mid-air. If it had stayed in one piece it probably would have crushed us flat. Both of us spend a few minutes gasping and coughing in the sudden cloud of dust.
I offer Penny a hand up. She slaps it away. I turn my back on her in disgust, and that's when I notice a boot sticking out of one of the older junk piles. I move in for a closer look. Sure enough, it's a body, dead but not stinking yet, dressed in tattered, mismatched clothes. This guy wasn't as lucky as us. A metal catwalk came down in one of the earlier cave-ins and sent him straight to Bum Heaven. At least it was probably quick. He's still wearing a St. Benedict's cross around his neck. I take it off him and whisper, “Rest in peace, Tater.”
I show my prize to Penny and we start picking our cautious way back to the door. We still have a train to catch.